


Hey, Bartender

by JoliePrudence



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Charmie - Fandom
Genre: 2 part one shot are a thing right?, Don't Like Don't Read, Flair bartending, M/M, cocky timmy, douchey nightclub, drinking (it takes place in a bar!)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29498130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoliePrudence/pseuds/JoliePrudence
Summary: Armie could not have wanted to go out less.  It had been a long day, a longer week and he had been looking forward to ordering in, watching a movie, and going to bed early.  But Nick had apparently had a worse day; and what kind of friend would he be if he let him get drunk by himself?When he pulled up to the address Nick had sent him, he had to check the text message again to make sure he hadn't read it wrong. Boujee Nightclub was definitely not the kind of place he was interested in spending a Friday night. Maybe the hot bartender will make him reconsider.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 126
Kudos: 147





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a smutty one shot, but in true me fashion, things started getting out of hand. I got a little carried away expositioning (that's a word right?) on what made hot bartender Timmy, HOT! 'cause cocky Timmy really works for me. Part two, which will be the actual smut will come soon.
> 
> Warnings:  
> Yes, this is a CHARMIE fanFICTION. Yes, it therefore has Armie Hammer in it.
> 
> If this is a trigger for you, PLEASE DON'T READ IT! 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy.

[ ](https://ibb.co/441G6S3)

Armie could not have wanted to go out less. It had been a long day, a longer week and he had been looking forward to ordering in, watching a movie, and going to bed early. But Nick had apparently had a worse day; and what kind of friend would he be if he let him get drunk by himself?

When he pulled up to the address Nick had sent him, he had to check the text message again to make sure hadn't read it wrong. He’d been expecting a small neighborhood bar, not a club. Certainly not the type of club where there was a line that rounded the corner; the type of club where a big ass dude in a way-too-tight black t-shirt and a headset acted like the stanchions he garded were heaven’s gates; the type of club Armie avoided at all costs.

Nick was waiting for him outside the red velvet ropes and was all smiles when Armie crossed the street from the lot where he’d parked his car. You had to give Nick that, at least. He might have terrible taste when it came to bars, but he was always happy to see his friends, no matter how bad a day he’d had.

“Is this really where we're going?” Armie asked after they’d hugged hello. “I’m not too keen about the prospect of standing in line for four hours just to get a beer.”

“I’m way too pretty to stand in line, dude,” Nick laughed, and walked directly to the front where he got the bouncer’s attention.

Turns out, ‘Nick Delli Santi +1’ was on the guestlist, so no standing in line was necessary. Armie didn’t bother asking why that was. Nick always had a trick up his sleeve when it came to these things. 

The place was exactly what Armie had expected. Loud, crowded, and douchey. Everything was white, frosted and illuminated from within, the only accent of color coming from the purple neon that hummed on the walls. There were two levels. The dance floor and two bars were located on the ground floor and on the mezzanine level there was a lounge area with another bar and seating. 

Another big dude in a too-tight black t-shirt and a headset guarded the spiral staircase that led to this area, and Armie wondered what it would take to convince him to let them go up there. Not that he had any desire to hang out with the ‘IT’-er crowd - the crowd on the main floor was already more than ‘IT’ enough for him - but it seemed quieter up there.

Turns out, ‘Nick Delli Santi +1’ was also on the VIP list. Armie still didn’t ask. Instead, he followed Nick up the spiral staircase and was grateful when the noise and flashing lights abated somewhat. There was a different vibe here and although he was still out of his element, it was more familiar. There was a pool table in the corner - if you could call it that with its white rails, purple felt, and its purple neon-lit plexiglass legs and pockets - and the bar up here had seating; though the hard plastic stools looked uncomfortable. There were no booths, but there were large white armless couches placed around large square neon-lit blocks that served as tables, and though you could still hear the music, it no longer made his organs thump. 

A fairly large crowd was gathered around the bar and though Armie couldn't see what was going on, it was clear that there was some sort of attraction happening given the way people were whooping and clamoring. Nick was busy texting, so Armie moved closer to get a better look, nudging his way into the mass of bodies until he could finally see what had everyone cheering.

The bartender, a curly-haired twenty-something in tight black jeans and a white t-shirt that had the club’s name printed in neon purple on the front, had hopped onto the bar and was currently kissing one of the patrons. He was crouched low, his knees spread wide so he could bend between them to reach the young man he was kissing, the guy’s tie wrapped around his hand so he could pull him close. 

When he was done, the bartender released the guy’s tie and adjusted it at his neck before he jumped back down behind the bar, and again the crowd cheered. The guy’s friends were all laughing and patting him on the back and though he was obviously a little embarrassed, he couldn't take his eyes off the man who’d just been kissing him. Armie watched as the bartender flipped a few bottles and poured a mixed drink, topping it with a few cherries for garnish and then handed it to the guy, winking flirtatiously before he moved on to his next customer. The clamoring died down somewhat after that, though the crowd barely thinned.

Armie spotted two free stools at the far right of the bar and walked over to claim them, Nick plopping himself down next to him. It wasn’t long before Armie understood why everyone hung around the bar. The bartender was a showman. The fact that he was gorgeous obviously helped, but Armie had never seen anyone with that kind of skill behind a bar in the venues he usually frequented. People watched enthralled as he threw bottles into the air, twirled shakers in an open palm, and flung ice cubes over his shoulder, catching them in a glass behind his back. Actually, gorgeous didn’t exactly cover it. He was fucking hot and Armie was immediately enthralled. 

The bartender wasn’t extremely tall, but everything about him was long and lean; his torso, his forearms, his thighs, his neck. He was narrow in the hips but slightly wider in the shoulder, his muscles apparent under pale skin that gleamed in the purple hue of the neon lighting.

Everyone was just as taken by him it seemed. Many knew him by name - Tommy or Timmy, Armie thought he’d heard them call him something like that - and even if Armie couldn’t hear what he was saying, it was clear flirting came easily to him. It was blatant in the way he kept eye contact and in the way he moved or let a hand linger when he handed someone a drink. And he wasn’t partial either. Men, women, whatever; he didn’t seem to care, and neither did they. He exuded confidence and projected an air of innate sexuality that he didn’t even try to hide; which could have been obnoxious, but wasn’t. He had kind eyes, and when he smiled it was genuine, which is probably what made the difference. 

“What can I get you?” he asked when he finally got to Armie and Nick, leaning forward so he didn’t have to scream to be heard, chin tilted down so he had to peer up through dark lashes to look Armie in the eye. Oh, he was good.

“Whatever beer you have on tap,” Armie answered, hoping his voice wasn’t betraying how attractive he found this Tommy, or whatever his name was, to be.

“Does this look like the type of place that has beer on tap?” he laughed softly, and Armie immediately felt a flush creep up his neck. It didn’t seem like the bartender was judging him, so much as the type of establishment they found themselves in, but still Armie felt hot; embarrassment warming his cheeks and desire heating up his belly.

“Bourbon, then. Neat. Please,” he tried again, and the bartender scrunched his nose disapprovingly.

“Really? That’s a little boring. Are you sure?” he asked, with a look Armie couldn’t quite decipher. Was he being playful? Derogatory? 

Armie nodded and the bartender conciliated with a shrug, his smile softening the blow of his obvious disapproval. Armie wanted to crawl under his stool. He didn’t of course, which was good because if he had, he would have missed the way the bartender stretched sideways, far enough down the line of bottles that his right foot lifted off the ground, all his limbs elongated and taut to keep him from losing balance. He teetered precariously while he located the bottle he was looking for and then he righted himself gracefully, lithe frame feline in its movements.

He asked Nick for his order while he poured Armie’s bourbon without even looking at the glass, the bottle raised at shoulder level, and said nothing when he too ordered a bourbon, neat. And it was fine. Armie wasn’t jealous. There was no denying Nick was pretty so, whatever. So what if Nick got a wink instead of a scrunched up nose and a “boring!”.

“Here you go,” the bartender said, handing Armie his tumbler. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No thanks,” Armie replied, pulling out his wallet, trying to appear unaffected. “Both are on me. How much do I owe you?”

Between the drinks and the tip - ok maybe he had given the guy a bit more than the usual 15% - it cost him forty-five dollars and it wasn’t even a top shelf brand. This really wasn’t Armie’s kind of place.

“I’ll come back and check on you a bit,” the bartender offered, after Armie told him he could keep the change - for which he was thanked offhandedly, the bartender in no way acknowledging that he was getting a fifteen dollar tip on a thirty dollar tab. He simply shoved it into the tip jar and then added: “Maybe by then you’ll have thought of something less boring than a bourbon, neat.” 

He was teasing, being flirtatious. It was obvious in the way he leaned in close to Armie, his voice lowered conspiratorially as he spoke. He even winked at Armie the same way he’d winked at the guy he’d kissed earlier. And though Armie tried to hide it, he flushed with pleasure all the way down to his crotch because of this little moment of fake intimacy.

Despite being up on the mezzanine, the noise level was still such that it was impossible to have a drawn conversation. Instead, Armie and Nick chatted idly and people watched - Armie bartender watched - until a pretty strawberry blond came behind the bar, her hands full of a rack filled with clean glasses. Nick’s interest perked up. The woman was on the short side, but she was full of curves that were highly accentuated by the club uniform of skinny black jeans and a white club t-shirt that she had tucked into the front of her waistband so as to show off her shape.

Armie watched as the bartender took the tray from her effortlessly and rested it on his hip to free one hand, which he used to tug on her belt loop, making her stumble back a little when she tried to walk away. She laughed and slapped his chest with the back of her hand hard enough to make him wince, but he laughed too, bending down to show her an expectant cheek which she kissed easily before continuing on her way. 

She appeared to be looking for someone when her eyes locked on them, and for a moment Armie thought he’d been caught staring too intently in their direction; but it quickly became obvious that it was actually Nick she was looking for. She was all smiles when she spotted him, and she came over to say hi. 

Her name was Claire and she owned the establishment, as well as a sister location soon to open in Malibu. In fact, she was the reason Nick Delli Santi +1 was on the guestlist. Nick had worked with her investors to broker the deal on the new location as well as to secure the commercial mortgage. Now that their business had concluded, she had opened the door for them to hang out in a less professional capacity and well, here they were. 

“What do you do, Armie?” she asked after Nick had introduced them, only remembering Armie was there after he and Claire had hugged for much longer than could be considered purely friendly, especially given the awkwardness of doing so with a bar counter between them.

“I’m a corporate lawyer,” he answered and she nodded, trying to appear interested but really it was clear he wasn't the one she was interested in.

Claire stayed to chat only for a few minutes, promising to come back after she’d taken care of a few things happening downstairs. On her way out from behind the bar, she stopped to talk to the bartender, giving him a soft pat on the ass to get his attention. He shimmied into her hand which made her tap him harder, and they both laughed before she said something into his ear that made him look in their direction and nod. She slapped his ass again before she left.

“Bad day, huh?” Armie said to Nick rhetorically. It was clear now that his reason for wanting to go out tonight wasn’t because he’d had a rough week.

“Would you have come if I had told you the truth?” Nick asked in reply, his question also rhetorical. 

Armie simply huffed through his nose, lips pursed in a show of annoyance, but it had little effect given that he couldn’t help the upturned corners of his mouth. Nick had been talking about Claire for months. He wouldn't begrudge him finally being free to pursue her and needing a wingman. 

“Besides, if you’d stayed home you wouldn’t be able to stare at the hot bartender all night,” Nick added, and Armie had the decency to appear offended.

“I’m not staring,” Armie insisted defensively, but he didn’t get a change argue the fact because the hot bartender he wasn’t staring at - much - had made his way to their end of the bar and was now leaning on the counter in front him, toying with the rim of his empty tumbler with a long narrow finger.

“Can I get you another?” he asked, head tilted to the side inquisitively, a half smile tugging seductively at the left corner of his mouth. There was something so innocent about him. No, not innocent. That was the wrong word. Innocent was DEFINITELY not the word. Something... Pure. Authentic. That’s what it was. Like, despite the bar being filled to capacity and the banality of the interaction, he was genuinely interested and present with whomever he was speaking to.

Armie wished he had the capacity for witty repartee at the moment. He wanted to be able to engage with the hot bartender, if only because flirting could be fun - even if it led to nothing - and he was normally quite good at it. Unfortunately his brain was misfiring; the guy was so fucking pretty it was destablizing. And the thing was, he was clearly aware of the effect he had on people and used it to his advantage; but somehow, he did it in a way that wasn’t off-putting. Was it any wonder, therefore, that the best Armie could manage was a nod and grunt that sort of sounded like ‘sure’.

“Yeah?” the bartender validated quizzically, as though he was surprised by the answer. When Armie nodded again he said: “Ok, I’m just surprised because you don’t seem like a boring guy and yet you’re ordering boring drinks.” 

Yes, bourbon neat was a pretty standard order, Armie thought, but not necessarily boring. More like traditional, classic, timeless, even. It was what his father and his grandfather drank and… ok fine, it was boring. And he desperately didn’t want this guy to think he was boring.

“What do you suggest then?” Armie was finally able to say, struggling to enunciate so the words didn’t come out all jumbled.

“Do you trust me?” the bartender asked after a brief pause to ponder Armie’s question, during which time Armie hadn’t been able to breathe because the guy had bitten his bottom lip, head still seductively tilted, and Armie had felt like his soul was being examined.

“I don’t even know your name and you’re asking me if I trust you,” Armie replied, somehow managing to not sound too strangled.

“My name’s Timothée,” he said, after looking pointedly down at where his name was embroidered on his shirt and then back up at Armie with a smirk. The smirk, combined with the fact that he’d pronounced his name with a french accent, sent a jolt of lust straight to Armie’s crotch. 

“It says Timmy on your shirt though,” Armie pointed out, and Timmy shrugged.

“Timmy’s my stripper name,” he said without skipping a beat, his expression not wavering at all and for a moment Armie almost thought he was serious, his eyes darting around the space to see if there was a poll somewhere because… yes please! Timmy wasn’t quite able to maintain the bluff however and he chuckled, the sound coming out like a cute little snort. 

“Ok smartass,” Armie said, chuckling as well, though he squared his shoulders and straightened his spine, using his height and the broadness of his chest as a shield against the effect Timmy was having on him. He wasn’t used to being the one thrown off kilter. “I’m Armie.”

“Is that a name or your occupation?” Timmy asked, and Armie felt a brief moment of satisfaction when Timmy’s eyes left his to pan over the width of his chest and his arms.

“I’m not in the army. I used to be a marine and now I’m a lawyer. Armie is short for Armand,” he offered, waiting for the appraisal that usually came when he mentioned that he used to be a marine or at the very least, the inevitable chortle that was most people’s reaction when they found out he had the name of an 80 year old. But neither came.

“Armand,” Timmy said instead, testing out the name, and Armie’s body reacted immediately to the way the word formed on his lips. “I like it. So Armand, do you trust me?” 

Armie shrugged with a lazy nod. It was a ‘what do I have to lose’ kind of gesture that he hoped adequately hid the eagerness with which he was ready to trust this man with anything he wanted to make - or do - for him. 

First, Timmy pulled a fresh tumbler from under the counter, rubbed a lime over its rim and coated it in coarse salt. Then he dropped a few large ice cubes in the glass and free-poured a couple of ounces of bourbon followed by a short pour of cinnamon schnapps over them. Armie made a face at the use of Goldschlager but Timmy ignored him, adding a few more drops of the clear spirit to add extra gold flecks into the drink before he grabbed a dark brown long-neck bottle from a glass-front bar refrigerator and popped the cap off easily on the edge of the counter. Armie got a glimpse of the label while Timmy was filling the tumbler with the fizzy brown liquid. Sioux City Sarsaparilla. Again Armie made a face.

“Have a little faith, Armand,” Timmy said, grabbing a cinnamon stick that he used to stir the concoction before he dropped it, and three maraschino cherries, into the glass and handed it to him. “Here you go, try that.” 

Armie brought the glass to his lips and hovered there without taking a sip while he eyed the bartender skeptically over the rim. The skepticism was real, but he was being deliberately hesitant to get a reaction from Timmy. Still nothing. Just the same cocky smile and maybe, just maybe, a little anticipation for his reaction.

When Armie finally took a sip, the carbonated bubbles from the sarsaparilla hit his tongue and woke up his taste buds so that his mouth was flooded with the warm earthiness of the soda, the sweet essence of the bourbon, and the smooth heat of the cinnamon in the schnapps. All the flavors melded together and then were rounded out by the faint touch of salt that rimmed the glass, making everything taste fuller and oddly sweeter.

“Holy shit, that’s good,” Armie said, his surprise blatant. “Anything with Goldschlager shouldn’t be good. What is this called and why is it so good?” 

“It’s called a Rooster. But the reason it’s good is because I made it, obviously,” Timmy answered smuggly, but it was an affectation; his cocky facade had slipped just enough that Armie could see he was pleased with the reaction he was getting for his efforts.

“Obviously,” Armie mimicked, taking another sip, allowing the liquid to warm his tongue before he swallowed, aware that Timmy’s eyes were fixed on his Adam’s apple when he did so, and somehow seemed thirsty too. 

“Hey Timmy, can we get some service over here?” someone on the other side of the bar asked, and Timmy snapped out of his fixation looking a little flustered, but he regained his composure quickly. 

“I’ll make you something else later if you want,” Timmy said and winked, throwing a discarded lime piece into the garbage before he headed off, already charming the group of guys who were clamoring for his attention.

Armie was almost done with his Rooster - who the hell came up with these names? - when Claire came back, this time staying on the customer side of the bar. Nick offered her his seat but she declined, using the footrest of his stool to hop onto the counter next to him.

“Ma’am, there’s no climbing on the bar in this establishment unless you’re planning to dance on it,” Timmy yelled from the other end of the bar and she laughed. 

“That’s your thing babe, not mine,” she yelled back at him and in response, he did a little dance slide in the direction of his next customer. 

With Claire there, Armie felt like a third wheel. She and Nick weren’t deliberately ignoring him, but they weren't making too much of an effort to include him either. Armie didn’t mind though. Nick was obviously smitten and Armie liked seeing his friend happy. To distract himself he watched Timmy work, impressed by the effortlessness with which he would put on a show for whoever he was serving. 

While he shook a martini for a pretty redhead who couldn't take her eyes off him, he danced around and sang along to whatever song the DJ was playing, using the shaker as a maraca, making the girl giggle. When a group of guys asked for a round of shots, he made them all line up with their backs to the bar and tilt their heads backward so he could pour the alcohol directly into their mouths, straight from the bottle. 

Crowd participation was a big thing for him, and what really got them going were the tricks he could do. Armie had seen videos of flair bartending online but he’d never seen anyone do it live, much less someone as hot as Timmy. The way he juggled the bottles was impressive certainly, but what really sold it was the way he moved as he did it. It was fluid, choreographed almost, in its precision, and the way he managed to catch whatever he was throwing into the air in time with whatever music was playing in the bar was mesmerizing. Armie could hardly look away. He watched as Timmy’s muscles flexed and stretched visibly under his pale skin, the purple neon of the accent lighting casting dark shadows in the dips of his biceps as they contracted and released.

Timmy took the orders of two couples who appeared to be on a double date and began making their cocktails, tossing bottles and making them flip high in the air before he poured the liquor into different shakers without ever needing to use a measure. He did a few tricks and poured three out of the four drinks into their respective glasses, but when he got to the fourth one, he shook the concoction, popped the shaker off of the glass with a tap and then flipped it over his head to catch it behind his back; except, this one he dropped… deliberately. 

Because he had made sure to drop it behind his back, nobody had noticed, no doubt too distracted by how gorgeous he was to pay attention to things they couldn’t really see, but Armie had been watching his hands - God they were beautiful… and dextrous - so he’d seen him catch the shaker and immediately release it so it bounced on the floor.

Right away his captivated audience erupted into cheers and laughter. Timmy dropped his arms in defeat, tilting his head backward to stare at the ceiling as though he really couldn’t believe he had just dropped something. 

“Alright, alright,” he said, unable to hide his perpetual smirk as he tried to silence the crowd regulars who were chanting ‘Kiss, kiss, kiss’ loudly. He hopped a slim hip onto the counter, pushing himself up on its ledge the way one did to get out of a pool, and then he swung his legs around so they were dangling on the other side of the bar. “Who had the passionfruit cosmo?” he asked in the direction of the two couples, but his eyes were already fixed on the pretty brunette who was standing a few feet behind her date. He knew exactly whose drink he’d been making when he’d ‘dropped’ the shaker.

The girl lifted a shy hand and Timmy pointed at her, eyebrows raised inquisitively, his lips silently mouthing the word ‘you?’ as though he wanted to confirm that he had the right person. She nodded.

The inquisitive raise of his eyebrows was quickly replaced with one of appraisal and appreciation - which made her blush… God he was good - and he crooked his pointer finger into a come-hither motion, calling her to him. Her date, an average looking gentleman built like a linebacker, tried to stop her from going up to Timmy, but she slipped her arm from his hand easily and only stopped once she was standing between Timmy’s parted knees.

The crowd fell silent with a kind of baited breath anticipation, and Timmy rewarded their controlled excitement with a knowing wiggle of his eyebrows before he lifted the brunette's chin with the crooked finger he’d used to beckon her over. It was then that Armie finally understood what was happening. This was what had been taking place when he and Nick had first arrived and Timmy had been crouched on the bar, kissing the guy in the suit. It was part of his schtick. If he dropped something while making your drink, you got a kiss. And the more drinks you ordered, the greater the chance of him dropping something. And who wouldn’t want to be kissed by those lips.

The brunette’s date stood by and watched helplessly while Timmy kissed his girl, because what else could he do when she was clearly into it and the entire crowd was on the guy’s side. The brunette had brought her hands to Timmy’s waist, forearms resting on his thighs for leverage as she stretched onto tip toes. 

When Timmy broke the kiss, the crowd cheered again and the girl hid her face in his sternum, which made Timmy laugh, and he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, keeping her close a few seconds longer. Armie wasn’t jealous. Nope, not at all. 

When Timmy got back behind the bar, drink orders doubled. He worked quickly, first remaking the brunette’s cosmo and offering it, and the linebackers drink, on the house. The guy was clearly pissed, and Armie noticed that Timmy was keeping an eye on the brunette as he filled his orders. The couple they were with seemed to have the situation in hand however, so there was no need to be worried. After he’d finished the last order from the influx, he came over to where Claire and the boys were seated, nudging her shoulder with the side of his head.

“Come here you,” she said, grabbing his jaw with a well manicured hand, long french tips digging slightly into the hollows of his cheeks, fingers squeezing just enough to make his pink lips pucker. “You are costing me money with your antics you little shit.” 

“I’m making you money you mean,” Timmy mumbled through squished lips, leaning into her grip rather than trying to pull away. She laughed.

“I just worry about this pretty face of yours. One day you’re going to get your ass kicked,” she said, and she pulled him even closer to peck him on the lips before she released him.

“Is it my face or my ass you’re worried about?” he asked coyly, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“Whichever one makes me the most money,” she replied deadpan.

“Definitely my ass then,” he replied equally deadpan before they both burst out laughing.

“Now, stop being a cocky bastard and do your job mister,” she ordered in a chastising maternal voice once their laughter had died down. “My guests need refills.” 

“Yes Ma’am,” he complied, kissing her cheek and squeezing her tightly before he let her go.

Nick ordered another bourbon that Timmy made without commenting on the boringness of it and then he turned his attention to Armie.

“Still trust me?” he asked and Armie nodded, silently wondering what he could possibly do to distract Timmy into dropping something.

This time, instead of bourbon, Timmy pulled a bottle of rye whisky from the back shelves and began mixing all his ingredients in a chilled beaker filled with ice. To the whisky he added cognac, sweet vermouth, Bénédictine which was a type of herbal spirit Armie had never heard of, and two types of bitters. He stirred everything with a long silver spoon and then poured the mix over a large round ice ball he’d set in an old-fashioned tumbler. He garnished it with a fresh cherry and a lemon rind twist and set it down on a little square napkin in front of Armie.

“Voila,” he said in unaccented French. “This is called a Vieux Carré.”

“Viou Car-eh,” Armie repeated, his pronunciation nowhere near Timmy’s. “What does that mean?”

“Old square,” Timmy answered, looking up at Armie sheepishly while he cleaned the counter with a rag.

Armie choked on his first sip of the drink, not because it wasn’t good - it was delicious - but because there was something about the way Timmy was looking at him that felt like an invitation. But an invitation to what, he wondered.

“Is that really what it’s called or is that your opinion of me?” Armie asked with a raised eyebrow, taking another sip to help the first one go down. Timmy laughed.

“It’s named after the French Quarter in New Orleans,” Timmy clarified before adding: “And I don’t think you’re old.”

“Oh great. So you think I’m square then?” Armie teased with an affected pout.

“Maybe I like squares,” Timmy countered, voice low and rife with hidden meaning, and if Armie wasn’t sure if he’d been flirting with him before, he was now.

‘Stop it,’ he told himself when his entire body tightened with excitement at the realization. ‘He flirts with everyone.’

“So are you? A square, I mean?” Timmy asked, stretching an arm toward Armie so he could grab the cherry from his glass and plop it onto an extended tongue. 

Armie watched, mouth agape, as Timmy closed his front teeth over the liquor soaked fruit and tugged on the stem to pop it off before he tucked it inside his cheek and smiled. Armie closed his mouth and swallowed hard. 

‘Stop it,’ he told himself again. Something so cliche really shouldn't affect him so intensely. 

Timmy waited - for Armie to regain his composure? For an answer? - head tilted to the side inquisitively again, a closed mouth smile dancing on his lips. He had to know what effect that seemingly innocuous gesture had on people. Could he tell by the way Armie had to readjust on the uncomfortable stool that no matter how cliche the bit with cherry was, it had made him hard? Could he tell by the way Armie shifted and cleared his throat that he was imagining Timmy with his mouth open for an entirely different reason?

“It depends what you mean by square I suppose,” Armie answered after a pause that was much too long to not be awkward, his voice sounding a lot more strained than he had hoped.

Timmy smiled again, chewed the cherry, spit the seed out into his hand and then looked like he was about to say something but stopped when he was called over by customers who wanted fresh drinks.

“I’ll tell you later,” Timmy answered, and winked as he walked away. 

‘’Fuck me!’’ Armie said under his breath, exhaling loudly the gulp of air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. What was this guy doing to him?

A group of women, all dressed in matching pink shirts that read ‘I’m with the bride’ came up to the bar then, and the group leader grabbed Timmy as he was walking by to serve someone a glass of white wine. He almost spilled the glass but recovered gracefully, leaning backward precariously as he listened to the request she was making. 

A few minutes later, Timmy was standing on top of the counter and whistled to get the crowd’s attention. He called the bride-to-be to the bar and had her climb up next to him. She was shy, hadn’t wanted to at first but Timmy had crouched down and said something in her ear that made her giggle and finally agree. 

“My friend Jenny here is getting married next week,” he said as she clung to his arm and the crowd cheered, though a few jerks in the background could be heard booing. “Now, now, boys, don’t be jealous,” he countered which made the crowd laugh. “She’s too good for you and you know it.”

Once the jeers and the laughter had died down, Timmy informed the crowd that Jenny’s friends wanted to buy her a few shots but that this would require a volunteer. Many hands were raised and Timmy looked them over appraisingly.

“We’re gonna let Jenny pick,” he said, then whispered something in her ear again. Jenny nodded and looked through the crowd for a moment but quickly - too quickly - turned toward the end of the bar where Armie was sitting. “Him?” Timmy pointed at Armie with a sly smile and Jenny nodded her head approvingly. 

Armie said no at first. He laughed and shook his head, refusing to participate in whatever it was Timmy had in mind; but the little shit was persistent and soon Armie found himself shirtless, lying on his back on the bar. And normally he’d hate this, but he’d caught Timmy licking his lips as he’d eyed the line of fine blond hair that trailed from Armie’s belly button to the waistband of his jeans, and he’d be willing to subject himself to any number of ridiculous frat boy humiliations if it meant that Timmy would look at him like that again. 

“Just gonna pull these down a little,” Timmy said, hands already tugging at Armie’s pants to pull them dangerously low on his hips and the crowd whooped excitedly, becoming even louder when he grabbed a clean hand towel and tucked it inside Armie’s waistband, making a point of letting his cool fingers linger against the skin at his abdomen. “Wouldn’t want these to get dirty,” he added for Armie’s benefit only, and Armie had to focus on the crowd around him to stop his cock from filling out. “Open up,” Timmy said, and he placed a wedge of lime in between Armie’s teeth before grabbing a large pinch of salt and sprinkling it very low on Armie’s belly. “Ready?” he asked Jenny, and when she nodded, he raised a bottle of tequila over Armie’s tummy and began to pour. The tequila felt cool hitting his skin but Armie did his best to control a shiver, sucking in his stomach so the liquid could puddle around his belly button. 

Even though he had been expecting it, the heat of Jenny’s tongue when she licked the salt from his belly took him by surprise, and Armie held his breath the whole time she was sucking up the tequila from his belly button. His eyes darted to Timmy’s and for a moment they held each other's gaze. Was it weird that all Armie could think about was having Timmy’s mouth on him while someone else’s tongue was lapping greedily at his skin? Maybe. But he had a feeling Timmy was having similar thoughts given the way his eyes had darkened. Even when Jenny came to suck the juice from the lime he was holding between his lips, Armie kept his eyes on Timmy and for the first time, his cocky facade seemed to falter.

The crowd cheered when Jenny pulled away and the sound of it seemed to make Timmy remember himself. Armie sat up and wiped his abdomen with the hand towel before he jumped down from the bar and gave Jenny a hug. Timmy did the same from across the counter and then loudly congratulated her on her upcoming nuptials, encouraging all the other patrons to do the same.

“I’m going to make you pay for that,” Armie said, laughing while everyone was busy congratulating the bride-to-be. He threw the hand towel at Timmy who retaliated by throwing Armie his shirt.

“Promises, promises,” Timmy quipped as he brought the hand towel to his lips, biting its edge while he smirked playfully at Armie.

‘’Not one word,’’ Armie said to Nick when he got back to his seat, but he was smiling so widely, who would possibly believe he was annoyed in any way? Nick simply clapped him on the back and laughed.

“Hey do you mind if I abandon you and head out with Claire?” he asked a while later, and Armie shook his head. He really didn’t mind. He was happy that things had worked out for Nick after months lusting after Claire in secret. He just wished he’d had the courage to ask Timmy for his number earlier. Now if he stayed long enough to do that, he’d look like a loser sitting alone at the bar in a club trolling to get laid. 

“I’m gonna head out too, it’s getting late,” Armie said, pulling out his wallet to leave a tip even if Claire had told them their drinks were on the house.

“You sure, man? You don’t want to stick around and flirt with the hot bartender some more?” Nick asked, unable to hide a grin. 

“Yeah, don’t you want to stick around and flirt with me some more?” Timmy mirrored before Armie had a chance to come up with a scathing retort. Armie hadn’t realized he was right behind him.

“I, uh… I wasn’t… I…” Armie stuttered, taken off guard, feeling like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You weren’t?” Timmy questioned, feigning deception. “That’s too bad. I wish you had been.” 

Armie didn’t know what to say to that. He normally had more game than this but the elation he felt at Timmy’s admission was too obvious on his face for him to try to play hard to get. 

“I can stick around for a bit longer I guess,” he offered, and he sat back down, ignoring the chuckles coming from the peanut gallery.

“Still trust me?” Timmy asked after Nick and Claire headed out, leaving Armie to get back to the flirting he ‘hadn’t been doing’ earlier. There was mischief in his beautiful green eyes.

“Sure, why not,” Armie replied, and this time he was the one who winked. He could be flirty too.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutty Smut Smut! I can't really summarize it more than that. After flirting all night in part 1, Timmy and Armie finally fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual warnings, if reading about Timmy and Armie triggers you then please don't read. This is obviously fiction etc. etc.
> 
> Thank you LostCol for the edit and the beta reading. But mostly for listening to me bitch constantly about how horrible the writing is and how much I HATE writing smut and yet write it ALL THE DAMNED TIME.

[ ](https://ibb.co/SVDBWMg)

Things started to quiet down about an hour before closing. Timmy was kept steadily busy until then, though he came over to check on Armie periodically. He had just about finished the seltzer with lime he’d ordered last - because he’d already had… well he’d lost count of how many drinks he’d had and that wasn't good - when Timmy let everyone know that it was going to be the last round.

“Can I get you something before we close?” Timmy asked Armie, while he prepped a last round of shooters. 

Armie shook his head, feeling the lethargy of the early morning hour creep into his muscles. He wouldn’t be able to drive if he had another drink. His body had started to ache from having sat on the uncomfortable stools for too long so he stretched, unable to contain a tired groan as he did so. He would have felt old if it weren’t for the hungry way Timmy watched him do it; his eyes flashing dark as they traveled his body in a way that left little to the imagination, parts of Armie that had been stirring on and off all night suddenly reinvigorated.

The vibe had changed now that most of the crowd had dispersed, and of the stragglers that remained, most of them had moved to the couches and were lounging about lazily.

“How about you drop one of those glasses, Tim?” the guy who had ordered the round of shooters asked, clearly hoping to distract Timmy into making it happen. He was handsome. Dark haired, blue eyed, chiseled everything. And he was looking at Timmy like he was a piece of prime rib. Timmy didn’t even look at him.

“The kissing booth is closed for tonight, James,” he replied, and Armie noticed the faint smirk that pulled at Timmy’s lips when the guy huffed his annoyance. “Are you going to be ok to get home?” he asked Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome, eyeing his group of friends in the corner, half of whom looked ready to keel over. 

“Why? Are you going to drive me home if I say no?” James asked hopefully, which made Timmy chuckle softly. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Not tonight,” Timmy replied, glancing not so surreptitiously in Armie’s direction. James followed Timmy’s eyes and made a face that looked very close to disgust.

“Seriously?” he asked Timmy, who shrugged and smirked. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“Friends don’t get jealous, James. Right?” Timmy questioned in return. There was a warning in his tone.

“Fine!” James conceded, petulantly. “I Ubered, so you don’t have to worry about me.” 

Timmy handed the tray of shooters to James but didn’t let go right away. Instead, he waited for the guy to look at him and when he did, annoyance and jealousy blatant on his face, Timmy smiled at him sweetly, holding his gaze until the man softened and finally smiled back. Only then did Timmy let go of the tray, sending James off with a wink. 

“Last chance. You sure you don’t want me to make you one more? I won’t even tease you if you want something boring like another bourbon neat,” Timmy asked Armie a while later, after he’d served the last few people waiting at the bar.

“I won’t be able to drive if I have another,” Armie replied, glancing down at his watch. If he was going to get the guy’s number he had to get his shit together and ask soon because he was running out of time.

“It’s gonna take me about an hour to close up once everyone’s out of here. You’re welcome to hang out if you want another,” Timmy offered, and though Armie really wanted to spend more time with him, he didn’t want to appear desperate. He was trying to muster the courage to just ask him out when Timmy nudged his shoulder, laughing. “Oh my god, Armie! Take the hint. I’m asking you to stick around.”

Armie opted for another seltzer with lime that he sipped slowly while Timmy closed out the few tabs left open and chatted briefly with the patrons who had come by to wish him a good night. When the music was turned off and the house lights were turned on, a general groan of complacent annoyance was heard around the venue. Those who had stayed until closing made their way downstairs slowly, moving a little faster when a large dude in a too-tight black t-shirt came to gently usher them along. The bouncer eyed Armie menacingly when he spotted him still sitting at the bar and took a step in his direction. 

“It’s ok Byron, he’s with me,” Timmy informed him, and the dude backed down.

“Are you sure it’s ok if I stay? Maybe I should just…” Armie said and stood. 

“Geez, Louise. Sit down, will you?” Timmy asked with a laugh that would have made Amie feel self-conscious had he not said ‘geez louise’ beforehand. Clearly he was an eighty-year-old man in a hot 20-something body. “Are you always this nervous?” 

“I’m not nervous,” Armie scoffed, which was a lie. Because he was nervous. He felt very out of his element at the moment and it was taking him off his game. “I just don’t want you to get into trouble because I'm hanging around,” he said to deflect from the pink hue of embarrassment creeping up his neck. But Timmy brushed it off.

“I won’t tell the boss if you don’t,” Timmy said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Come on, do a shot with me before I send the dirty glasses downstairs.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk so I can’t leave,” Armie said when Timmy plopped two shot glasses down in front of him and filled them with whiskey. 

“Ahh! The gentleman is catching on,” Timmy teased, extending the sound of the ‘ah’ playfully before he handed a shot glass to Armie and clinked his against it before they both downed the contents.

They had another, and then Armie watched as Timmy cleaned up behind the bar, filling trays with dirty glasses and stacking them inside a dumbwaiter. Armie walked around to stretch his legs, making himself useful by picking up a few discarded glasses and bringing them to Timmy to be stacked on the trays and sent downstairs. 

Timmy was busy counting the cash in his register when one of the bartenders from downstairs came up carrying two cash drawers.

“Hey, T. Everything balances,” she said, depositing them on the counter. If she was surprised to find someone up there with Timmy, she didn’t let it show. 

“Thanks, did you have a good night?” he asked and she nodded, pulling a fabric envelope from her back pocket.

“Here’s the deposit for tomorrow, do you want me to put it in the safe?” she asked, but he shook his head. 

“I’ll take care of it,” he replied, taking the envelope from her and adding it to the one he’d filled with the night’s profit from the upstairs register. “I still have some things to do up here before I lock up. Everything sorted downstairs?”

The pretty bartender’s eyes moved in Armie’s direction and then back to Timmy; clearly Armie was the thing Timmy was referring to and she knew it. He smirked, further confirming her suspicions, which forced her to contain a knowing smile as she nodded in answer to his question.

“Great. You and the guys can head home then,” Timmy stated, making it clear that it was time for them to leave. They wished each other a good night, and then as she began her descent down the spiral staircase he asked: “Hey, can you shut off the house lights on your way out?”

“Sure thing, Boss,” she called back over her shoulder before disappearing.

“Boss?” Armie questioned, surprised.

“I’ve been managing this place for Claire while she’s been focusing on the new location,” Timmy replied sheepishly, stacking the register drawers and the deposit envelopes one on top of the other so he could pick them up in one go. 

“So earlier, when you said you wouldn’t tell the boss if I didn’t…” Armie started but trailed off because Timmy was biting his bottom lip and Armie knew the moment he released it it would be all slick and swollen and… “What was I saying?” 

Timmy laughed, lip still tucked between his teeth and Armie thought he might actually swoon. He probably wavered a little actually, that would explain the knowing and amused look on Timmy’s face. The twinkle in his eye was back; the one that implied he knew exactly what Armie was thinking and what effect Timmy had on him.

“I’m going to bring this to the office and I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” Timmy said and turned on his heels, the register drawers balanced over a forearm, the weight of them making his bicep tense under the cuffed sleeve of his t-shirt. Armie nodded. He for sure wasn’t going anywhere.

The office was a small room behind the bar, the door of which was hidden discreetly in the design of the back wall, making it practically invisible to anyone who didn’t know it was there. Timmy left the door open but Armie didn’t want to appear to be snooping - or be caught staring at his ass - so he walked around the empty mezzanine, stopping at the pool table to inspect its craftsmanship. It was beautifully made, despite its douchey appearance, the plexiglass legs encasing neon lighting, the pockets glowing with the same purple hue thanks to more recessed neon strips. He was inspecting the quality of the deep purple felt covering the slate when the house lights went off, sending his heart into a rapid patter. They were alone and that excited him.

Timmy emerged from the office a few minutes later, dropped his backpack and his jacket on the bar and then locked the door by pressing a digital code into a number pad near the knob. He grabbed a water bottle from the bar-fridge and then rounded the counter so he could join Armie by the pool table. 

Armie didn’t know if it was nerves - why would he be nervous? He wasn’t the nervous type… usually - or simply that their attraction was so palpable it was unsettling, but he felt jittery, almost as if he were vibrating from the inside out. Timmy wasn’t helping. He had come to stand right in front of him and was making a show of guzzling down most of the bottle’s contents in a series of long slow swallows, his head tilted back, long neck extended to expose beautiful alabaster skin. Skin so pristine it looked like a blank canvas that Armie wanted to paint with his tongue and his fingers, leaving it bruised and marked all over. 

When he was done, there was about two inches of water left in the bottle. Timmy wiped his mouth with the inside of his wrist, careful not to tip the bottle as he did so, and then he stretched his arm in Armie’s direction, offering him what was left of it. 

Armie reached in Timmy’s direction to take it but right before his fingers could close on the bottle, Timmy released it and it fell to the floor, the plastic bouncing off the epoxied concrete, water sloshing out and making a small puddle around it. Armie looked down at the spill - noting for whatever stupid reason that the club's purple neon accent lighting reflected in it and made beautiful patterns - and then back at Timmy.

“Oups,” Timmy said, trying not to laugh at Armie’s stupefaction, the corners of his lips dancing against a closed mouth smile.

“You, uh… dropped that,” Armie questioned more than stated, clearly wondering if Timmy had dropped it deliberately. 

“I did,” Timmy validated, taking a step forward, having to tilt his head up a little to look Armie in the eye now, the angle defining the sharp lines of his jaw and the perfect slope of his grecian nose. “So, I’m gonna kiss you now,” he added, the corners of his lips dancing again when Armie’s eyes went wide and he licked his lips with anticipation, nodding a little too enthusiastically for it to be sexy.

When Timmy pushed up on his tiptoes and cupped the sides of Armie’s face, pulling him down the rest of the way to meet him, Armie stopped breathing.

“You ok?” Timmy asked, his voice a whisper, his breath warm and sweet against Armie’s skin. 

“Mmhmm,” Armie replied, his voice sounding strained even if he hadn’t used actual words. “You’re just…” he tried to explain but trailed off because he didn’t know the words. There were no words to explain the effect Timmy had on him.

“You’re just, too!” Timmy mirrored, so close now that Armie felt him smile against his lips.

The kiss surprised Armie, even if he had been expecting it. He had anticipated something voracious, messy a little, maybe; but instead it was soft and restrained. Not tentative per se, but definitely controlled. Despite this, it sent Armie’s heart aflutter and made his knees wobbly. 

It was brief. Much briefer than Armie would have liked and he groaned - whined? - when Timmy pulled away, dropping back down to the flat of his feet, his hands leaving Armie’s cheeks but not his body, cool fingers gliding down his neck and his shoulders, settling over his biceps.

“Right back at you,” Timmy replied, looking a little dazed and breathless himself.

“Please do that again,” Armie implored, his hands squeezing over Timmy’s small waist, and this time Timmy didn’t retort with a cocky reply. In fact, he said nothing at all.

Instead, he was on his toes again, arms slung around Armie’s shoulders, all signs of countenance vanished as he leaned full-bodied into Armie’s large frame, the momentum of it making him step backward until the back of his thighs were knocking into the pool table. Timmy's tongue was no longer cautious. It was demanding, desperate to find Armie’s, the heat of it almost like fire in Armie’s mouth.

When they parted the second time, they were both out of breath, foreheads pressed together as though parting fully would break the connection, a thin string of saliva stretching between them for a moment, eventually breaking under the assault of their ragged breathing.

“I couldn’t wait to do that,” Timmy said, still on his tiptoes, his body supported by Armie’s strong arms wrapped around his back.

“Why did you?” Armie asked, his voice a low breathless gravel because Timmy was kissing softly at his cheekbones, the tip of his tongue gently grazing his skin before his lips closed over the same spot, and it was doing ‘things’ to him. 

“Because I’m a gentleman,” Timmy began, his kisses now burning deliciously on Armie’s neck, a lap of his tongue letting him know where the next one would land, the spot going cool after Timmy pulled away. “And I figured you might prefer we be alone before I start getting you out of these clothes.”

“Here?” Armie asked, surprised. Not that he cared where. Here was fine. So was his car or his apartment or wherever else Timmy wanted him naked if it meant Timmy would be getting naked, too. 

“This is where we are,” Timmy confirmed, and again Armie nodded stupidly.

Lips still on Armie’s neck, Timmy began unbuttoning his shirt. He first undid the cuff button at Armie’s left wrist, then the right, and then began on the front of the shirt, starting with the collar and making his way down quickly, never needing to look at what he was doing. Once all the buttons were unfastened, Timmy flattened his palms against Armie’s bare chest, grazing his fingers through blond chest hair before he slid them up to Armie’s shoulders and down his arms, pushing the shirt off his body in one slow motion.

Timmy took a step back, his eyes roaming hungrily over Armie’s upper body, looking at him like he was a statue in the midst of being sculpted, his hands grazing up his sides to feel all the ridges and groves of his ribs against his fingertips. The touch making Armie shiver pleasantly. 

“Stop that,” Armie said, bringing a hand up to Timmy’s cheek so he could stretch a thumb to free his bottom lip from where he'd tucked it between his teeth again, his other fingers curling around his jaw. Timmy leaned into the touch. “It does things to me.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started doing things to you yet,” Timmy chuckled, turning his head to kiss the inside of Armie’s palm before he pulled away again, stretching around Armie to tap the top of the pool table. “Come on, hop up.”

“On the pool table?” Armie questioned, looking down at where Timmy had patted the purple felt. “You’re not supposed to sit on those. It could damage the felt and the slate might not support our weight and…”

“Armie, I’m going to take you out of those pants and to do that, I need to take your shoes off.” Timmy interrupted him, the words very matter-of-fact in their delivery even though he couldn't quite hide a playful grin. “Personally, I wouldn’t want to be barefoot on this floor, but it’s up to you.” 

Armie wished he could have hesitated a moment longer - the eagerness with which he climbed onto the pool table was a little embarrassing, frankly - because Timmy was being super cocky and he deserved a taste of his own medicine. But Armie’s feet were off the ground the moment Timmy finished talking because he’d do whatever Timmy told him to do if pants were going to be coming off. He didn’t even care that Timmy was flat out laughing at him now.

“You’re really hot when you’re eager,” Timmy noted with a lecherous smile. The way he was looking at Armie was a little predatory and that did ‘things’ to him too.

Timmy lifted one of Armie's feet and pulled off his shoe - original Adidas Stan Smiths cause he was old-school-cool like that - as well as his sock, repeating the process on the other foot, taking a peek at the shoe size before he put it down.

“Jesus, your feet are huge!” he teased, making Armie laugh.

“All of me is huge,” Armie replied. He hadn’t meant for it to sound dirty, but given the way Timmy’s eyes immediately went to his crotch, he figured he’d go with it.

“That’s kind of what I’m hoping,” Timmy quipped, the predatory look still in his eyes when he came to stand between Armie’s thighs.

Even with him sitting on the pool table, Armie was taller, and Timmy had to lift his chin so he could kiss him again. Immediately Armie started to pull at the hem of Timmy’s t-shirt but he stopped him, pushing Armie gently so he was forced to lean back onto his hands.

“Pants off first,” Timmy decided and began undoing the fastenings. 

It didn’t take long for Timmy to undo the button and pull down the zipper of Armie’s jeans so he could part the fabric to expose Armie’s lower abdomen. He scratched at the delicate skin with his nails, soliciting a soft moan from Armie lips, before he slipped his long fingers inside the pants and under the elastic of his boxers so he could pull both down in one go. Armie helped by lifting his ass off the slate, balancing his weight by pressing the back of thighs against the top rail. 

Armie was already hard - actually, he’d been hard forever - so it was a relief to be freed from the tight constraint of the fabric, his bare erection curving up toward his belly. That said, he was also very much aware that Timmy was still fully clothed and ogling him avidly.

“Fuck!” Timmy whispered to himself, eyes wide and mouth agape, transfixed by what Armie assumed was the size of his cock. “You weren’t kidding.”

Armie felt like a stallion at auction being appraised for purchase and it really shouldn’t have been hot, but somehow it was. He wished he had the capacity to formulate words at the moment because he would have asked TImmy if he liked what he saw or if he wanted to test out the merchandise before purchase - which was super cheesy but seemed like something that would make Timmy laugh and he liked making him laugh - but Timmy’s hands were running the length of his thighs, thumbs coming deliciously close to his groin, and the yearning it caused had rendered him speechless… again.

“Scooch back,” Timm ordered, his voice lusty and full of desire. 

His hands were at Armie’s hips, nudging him in the direction he wanted him to go and Armie obeyed, moving backwards so the length of him was on the table top. Timmy climbed up after him and toed off his boots - when had he unlaced them? - letting them fall to the floor with a loud thud, and then he took off his socks and his t-shirt before coming to straddle Armie’s thighs. He hovered there for a moment, not lowering himself onto Armie’s lap, just kneeling over him, nibbling at his lower lip pensively, as though he were trying to decide what he wanted to do first.

Armie’s mouth watered and his hands burned with the need to reach out and touch. Timmy’s chest was smooth and his shoulders were wide and sinewy. He was long torsoed and narrow hipped, and thinner than he’d appeared with his t-shirt on, though the skinniness suited him; the lines his ribs made under skin so pale you could see a road map of thin blue veins at his side and across his belly, making Armie’s entire body tense with need. 

A swoop of brown curls had fallen over his left eye and Timmy ran a hand through the tossel seductively, flipping it over to the other side before he trailed the same hand lazily down the length of his neck and chest, stopping just a few centimeters from the waistband of his jeans. Armie didn’t think he’d ever felt so wanton. 

His body practically shook with anticipation when Timmy stopped drawing abstract patterns over his belly and made a show of undoing the fly of his jeans, popping open each of the five buttons slowly, the sound they made thudding thickly in the emptiness around them. When he slipped his fingers into the open folds of the fabric to squeeze his erection over his black boxers, Armie felt a spasm of desire flash hot and blinding through his body, leaving behind a trail of tingling nerve endings.

“Timmy?” Armie managed to croak, despite feeling like he was going to have a heart attack due to all the electricity in his body. Timmy simply hummed in response, his bottom lip swelling under his teeth. “I want…” Armie began but once again couldn’t finish, because he didn’t know where to start. He wanted everything, but he would take anything Timmy was willing to offer. “You. I want you,” he was finally able to say.

Timmy smiled and he looked soft suddenly, all the arrogance gone from his face. The moment was fleeting however. Armie didn’t have time to appreciate the shift in his demeanor because Timmy let himself fall forward slowly, breaking his fall and supporting his weight with an outstretched arm near Armie’s head, bringing them face to face, the cocky attitude back in full force. Armie’s eyes were drawn between their bodies to where Timmy was still palming his cock through his boxers, and Armie’s own erection jerked and leaked against his abdomen.   
  
“So very eager,” Timmy teased again, and he lowered himself the rest of the way so that he was lying directly on top of Armie’s naked body. 

Before Armie could say anything, Timmy’s mouth was back on his in a bruising kiss and when his hands began to roam, it was with a fervor that Armie reveled in. Soon his lips began exploring as well, leaving Armie’s lips to taste his neck and the hollow of his throat, his teeth nibbling at his earlobes or the tendon near his shoulder while his hands learned the smoothness of Armie’s skin, the hardness of his muscles, the feel of the hair on his chest between his fingers. 

The ravenousness Armie had been feeling watching Timmy all night reached its peak when Timmy’s teeth sank into his bicep, eliciting a loud moan of pleasure from deep inside Armie’s throat, and Armie couldn't take it anymore. He brought his hands to Timmy’s ass and squeezed hard at the small round mounds of his asscheeks, the jeans an unwelcome barrier between him and Timmy’s skin, but he pulled and tugged at Timmy nonetheless, pressing and rubbing their hard cocks together. The fabric felt raw and gritty against Armie’s naked erection but he didn’t care. He needed the contact and the friction. He needed Timmy.

Timmy grumbled into Armie’s mouth when he removed his hands from his ass but stopped when he realized Armie had only done so to push at his jeans and boxers until they were bunched around his thighs. Then Armie’s hands were back to kneading soft and malleable flesh, fingers digging into his muscles bruisingly, desperate to mash their pelvises into one another, to feel the soft skin of Timmy’s erection sliding against his as he used Timmy’s body as a rutting post.

Too soon, Timmy was wriggling free and getting up on his knees again. Armie tried to grab at Timmy’s arms, his thighs, his cock, anything that would bring his body back down onto his, but Timmy wasn’t having it. Instead, he was looking down at Armie with that debauched look on his face again, touching himself, one hand rubbing at the soft part of his belly and the other wrapped loosely around his hard cock. 

“Come here,” Armie begged, trying to pull at him again. 

“One sec,” Timmy said, playfully fighting off the assault of Armie’s grabby hands. “I need to take these off.”

Timmy twisted off of Armie’s lap and sat next to him on the slate. He fished a condom from his jeans pocket and threw it on the table top close to Armie’s head, and then he pulled his pants and his boxers off his legs completely, rolling onto his side and pressing himself against Armie’s thigh, his hands back to roaming the wide expanse of Armie’s body.

“I want to fuck your mouth,” Timmy said, his lips close to Armie’s ear and they both laughed because at the same time Armie had said: “I want to suck your cock.”

It took Timmy a few seconds to get into the proper position, their height difference being significant enough that it necessitated a bit of trial and error, but Timmy was very long in the torso so he quickly figured out how far he needed to stretch to get Armie’s cock in his mouth once he was straddling his face. It took him a bit longer to coordinate his movements however, trying to get his neck, his hand and his pelvis to move in a synchronized way that made both of them hum.

Armie liked the feeling of not being in control. He could be if he wanted to. He could use his hands to slow Timmy’s hips or to curtail how deep down his throat he’d allow him to push, but he didn’t. Instead he kept his palms flat on the felt and concentrated on relaxing the muscles in his throat, tilting his head back to open himself up as much as possible for Timmy’s cock. It was difficult because the heat of Timmy’s mouth and the wetness of his tongue felt incredible and it was distracting him; not that Timmy seemed to mind the low steady moans Armie was making around his cock as he thrust in and out of his throat.

“God you feel good,” Timmy panted, taking a break from trying to coordinate the thrusting of his hips and the bobbing of his head, instead just using his long narrow fingers to stroke him, twisting his wrist on the way up and then again on the way down. “I’ve been thinking about fucking your mouth all night.” 

The praise made Armie moan again and Timmy couldn't contain a groan of his own, the vibrations in Armie’s throat making him move his hips faster. Armie gagged a little so Timmy slowed down, pulling out completely a few times to give him a chance to catch his breath properly before he was fucking him again. 

Armie made a noise of complaint when Timmy pulled his cock out of his mouth once more and Timmy chuckled. He gave Armie one last hard suck that made Armie groan and moan at the same time but then sat up, scooching forward a little so he was resting on Armie’s chest.

“How about you put your tongue in my ass, instead?” Timmy offered, looking at Armie over his shoulder and Armie nodded, licking his lips at the prospect.

Timmy practically mewled when Armie’s tongue lapped delicately at his entrance and he had to brace himself on the top of Armie’s thighs not to fall forward onto all fours. He recovered quickly however, bringing a hand to his cock to stroke himself a few times, adding to the sensation, making his breath catch in his throat and a string of groaned praise interspersed with profanities escaped his mouth, the sound of it spurring Armie to lick and prod harder. 

Fingers soon joined Armie’s tongue. First one, pressed inside Timmy’s ass tentatively so as not to hurt, moving in and out of him slowly, slicking him up with the help of Armie’s wet tongue, hardened tip licking at the tight muscle constricting around his finger. It didn’t take long for Timmy to start being more demanding, wiggling his ass over Armie’s face, giving him short, one or two word directions like “more” and “harder” and “right there”; rewarding Armie for his efforts by reaching a hand over to his cock and rubbing his palm over the tip before sliding a tightened fist down his shaft, using his precum and lubrication to smooth his strokes.

Armie barely noticed when Timmy twisted his body to reach behind him, nimbly maneuvering himself so he could reach the condom he had discarded earlier, his lower body held firmly in place over Armie’s mouth by one of his strong arms wrapped around his hips. He made quick work of getting the condom over Armie’s erection, trying not to let himself get distracted by Armie’s hand and tongue opening him up; and though Armie couldn't see what Timmy was doing, he could feel it and his body tensed with exhilaration and anticipation. 

“You ok?” Timmy asked. He was on all fours with his ass in the air, looking at Armie over his arm, pupils blown, bottom lips swollen and bright red from having been bitten mercilessly. Armie nodded, eyes locked on Timmy’s, his hands gently caressing his slender thighs. “Good. ‘Cause I want to feel this huge cock in my ass,” he said, before lowering his head so he could kiss his belly and bite his hip.

Armie watched Timmy as he crawled forward, looking back at him the whole time, the cocky smirk back where it belonged, fully aware of the show he was giving right now and getting off on the reaction it was soliciting. He stopped once his ass was centered over Armie’s hips and then he raised himself up until he was kneeling over him.

When he brought a hand to his mouth and licked a thick blob of spit onto his fingers, Armie couldn’t help a small laugh. Timmy was both filthy and adorable and the dichotomy was charming and sexy as hell. Timmy wiggled his eyebrows impishly and then twisted his arm behind his back so he could grab Armie’s cock with a tight fist, pumping it over the shaft a few times to get it slick with the saliva. 

Armie raised himself on his elbows to watch, more than willing to be a participating audience member in whatever show Timmy seemed intent on putting on. He wasn’t disappointed when Timmy teased his puckered hole with Armie’s cock, hand still fisted tightly around it, rubbing the head up and down his crack and then over his entrance before he lowered himself a little, letting gravity do most of the work. Armie felt the pressure of Timmy’s body against the head of his cock but then the muscles gave way and with all resistance gone, he watched himself disappear into Timmy’s body. 

Timmy was beautiful, even from behind. Dark curls clinging to his damp nape; back and shoulder muscles visibly taut when he moved; his small round ass spread over Armie’s groin once he’d fully settled on Armie’s cock and taken him all in. The noises he was making were driving Armie crazy and he had to fight the urge to bend his knees so he could use the slate as leverage to fuck into Timmy hole, because it was all starting to be too much. 

Timmy was moving frustratingly slowly, undulating his hips in languid figure 8s; and when he picked up a little speed, he stayed low on Armie’s cock, ass never lifting off his hips more than an inch or so, wiggling in an up and down motion that reminded Armie of someone twerking. And it’s not that it didn’t feel good, it felt amazing, it was just that he felt like he’d been kept in a state of constant arousal since Timmmy had served him his first drink so many hours ago, and the need for a peak and release was becoming urgent.

“Timmy,” he groaned. He wasn’t sure if it was a complaint or praise. Either way, his hands squeezing at Timmy’s waist and rocking him back and forth while he tensed his thigh muscles to fuck a little deeper into Timmy’s ass was definitely a plea for more.

“Fuck, do that again,” Timmy requested, a spasm rocking his body so strongly that Armie felt his abdominal muscles tense under his fingers. Armie obliged, flexing and releasing his glutes, rocking Timmy’s pelvis on his cock until Timmy stopped him, panting and sounding mildly panicked and strained. “Wait, wait, I need a minute.”

He lifted himself off of Armie’s lap, moaning loudly at the feeling of Armie’s cock sliding out of him, his body shaking with powerful shivers. He didn’t move as he let them pass, then he exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair, his back curving backward a little in a sexy way as he did so, and Armie couldn’t help but stroke himself as he watched him, awed by the lines of his body and the way his skin shimmered in the neon light.

Once he’d recomposed himself, Timmy turned around so he was facing Armie and he smirked, tongue sticking out just a bit. He looked mischievous like this, hair mussed and cheeks and chest flushed pink, the flattened tip of his tongue pinched between his teeth as he looked down at Armie, hands on his hips. 

“You almost made me come,” Timmy said with a grin, Armie’s chest swelling with pride at the notion. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Armie blurted out as though that were an adequate response, and Timmy laughed.

“You’re hot too, Armand,” Timmy replied, letting himself fall forward so he was laying over Armie. 

Timmy kissed him with a voraciousness that made Armie’s toes curl almost as much as having his mouth on his cock had. In response, Armie’s hands were everywhere. He was grabbing at his back, his ass, hand fisting tightly in Timmy’s hair to keep him in place while he thrust his hips to get some friction against Timmy’s thigh.

“I thought I was the one who was in charge here,” Timmy teased, a hand at Armie’s throat to try and regain control. 

He was squeezing gently, not enough to block his airway but enough to constrict it, the depletion of oxygen intensifying all the other sensations. Within seconds their positions were reversed. In a rather impressive show of strength, Armie had flipped them over and Timmy was the one on his back with Armie lying over him. 

“I’m in charge now,” he said in something close to a growl and Timmy ‘ngghnn’ed loudly in return, his thighs falling open around Armie hips. “Come here,” he said, hands grasping for Timmy’s legs, pushing them up by the back of his knees, letting go of one once he was in the right position so he could grab his cock and guide it into Timmy’s hole.

Timmy moaned loudly, the sound somewhere between a keen and mewl. A bunch of unintelligible words fell from his lips as Armie rammed into his ass full force at a punishing pace. Timmy raised his pelvis off the table top to meet Armie’s hips, one hand wrapped around his erection so he could stroke himself, the other around one of Armie’s biceps, holding on for dear life.

“Oh my god, don’t stop,” he said, but it sounded muffled because he was biting at Armie’s shoulder. “Fuck me harder.”

Timmy came first, spilling in his hand between their bodies, loud staccatoed groans coming out of him as his come seeped through his fingers and onto their stomachs. Armie followed just a few seconds later, pushed deep inside of Timmy’s ass, similar noises coming from deep in his chest and then he collapsed over him, his face buried in the crook of Timmy’s neck.

“That was… fuck!” Timmy said, the words thick and drowsy sounding. The expression ‘fucked stupid’ came to Armie’s mind and he chuckled breathily.

“Not so cocky anymore, huh?” Armie said before he kissed Timmy’s shoulder.

“I think you fucked the cockiness outta me,” Timmy answered, stretching languidly under Armie’s body. “You’ll have to apologize to everyone when you pick me up tomorrow night. My cockiness is a big attraction in this place.”

“Tomorrow night?” Armie questioned, curious. He liked the sound of tomorrow night.

“I was thinking of putting the kissing booth out of commission for a couple of days so you can take me on date,” Timmy said playfully, shivering pleasantly under Armie’s lazily wandering hands.

“How’s the boss gonna feel about that?” Armie asked, trailing kisses along Timmy’s neck.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” Timmy said, and they both laughed.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments on Part 1, they are so appreciated and getting that notification makes my day before I even read them. 
> 
> I am JoliePrudence on Tumblr if you want to come and chat (or if you want to scream at me for whatever reason. I love hearing from you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to LostCol who is subjected ficly (weekly but for fics... I'm a font of new words today) to my terrible spelling while she edits things that even google can't help me with.
> 
> Without her patience and diligence my writing would be very different.


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